In the Arms of a Friend
by Galinda-girl
Summary: A song fic to Breaking Bejamin's So Cold. Legolas has a nightmare that sends him into a delirious fit and Aragorn must discover the cause of this malady.Friendship not Slash. Set pre WoTR. One-shot.


A story of Aragorn and Legolas friendship to the song _So Cold_ by Breaking Benjamin. This is purely to highlight their friendship and should not be taken as slash.

I do not own _So Cold_ or _Lord of the Rings_: they belong to Breaking Benjamin and J.R.R. Tolkien respectively.

_Crowded streets are cleared away_

_One by one._

The black roads of Bree empty as I crash through their depths. Your thin lithe body convulses in my arms and I struggle to keep a cloak over your fine Elven features as the wind and rain nearly wrest the cloth from my grasp. Even in the grey of dawn you glow faintly, and the Men of Bree do not need to see your face to be frightened. Our haste and strange aura alone ward men from coming closer. The faintness of your glow worries me.

_Hollow heroes separate_

_As they run._

Brutes, who a moment ago swaggered with strength, courage, and bravado, slink into alleys and dark shadows as we pass. I know the way to The Prancing Pony well and your condition lends me great speed despite the rain. We slip in behind a large bearded man and I clutch you tighter to my breast to protect you from unwarranted stares and to warm your shivering body. Men scattered throughout the inn pick their heads up from the table long enough to cast drunken and suspicious glances our way, but they are too cowardly to do more than look. I am well armed for the both of us, but should we remain too long without a room I would be risking your safety.

I stride to the innkeeper and lay money on the counter: enough for a night's stay and at least two decent meals. He eyes me warily and I mouth 'Strider', lowering my eyes to meet his. Without another word and abstaining from any further eye-contact we are ushered into a room with great haste. For once, I am glad of the suspicions cast upon both Elves and Rangers.

_You're so cold_

_Keep your hand in mine._

_Wise men wonder while_

_Strong men die._

I lay you gingerly upon the well-worn bed, but when my hands leave your side you thrash with terrible power and convulse in hideous tremors. Your hand is ice when I take it in my own, but I grab your other hand as well and the shaking lessens. You cry quietly though. I fear for your health.

Taking both your hands into one of mine I remove our packs from my shoulders. In my own pack, a blanket lies hastily shoved atop a bag of coins and camping gear. I tear the blanket from its current perch and lay it over your form.

As you have no bodily wounds, all I can do is wait until this nightmarish episode has passed. I sit on the edge of the bed and pull you into my lap. "Mellon nin." I whisper. "Mellon nin."

_Show me how it ends, it's all right_

_Show me how defenseless you really are._

Ada will be pleased there were no orcs to mar our camping trip, no miraculous escapes, and no endless worry. I can do nothing but worry though, for even without orcs trouble and strife follow us as ever-lingering shadows.

I took first watch so I could ease my mind in silence and inky forests. Though I am human, as you constantly remind me, I do not need to be pampered. I took first watch. Would we be here in Bree if I hadn't? I know not, my mistakes are my own to bear.

Two hours passed in silence when I whispered your name to the wind. Afraid that I had awakened you I turned to your sleeping form only to find tears in your eyes and traces of the salty fluid down your cheeks. Flowing tears erupted into sudden sobs before I could even react. Before I could speak you were thrashing in strange, furious convulsions.

"Legolas." I called as loudly as I dared, but you were deaf to my cries and blind as I searched you for hidden wounds. In moments your fit worsened and I hastened to remove your weapons lest you harm yourself in this delirium. With the shrill, shrieking noises you made we were not safe in the woods and Rivendell was too far a march with you in such a state. So I ran with you in my arms to Bree to guarantee you a bed and comparative safety, if nothing else.

_Satisfied and empty inside_

_Well that's all right_

_Let's give this another try._

You're so vulnerable and although I have seen many sides of you this is one I wish I would never see. So young and terrified of whatever demon haunts your sleep, you show more emotion than I have ever seen when you are awake. I know how you act around others, Elves and Men alike, and you are numb without any hint of life. Your eyes go dead and your face becomes expressionless. This way, no one can hurt you.

"Legolas," I mouth and your eyes shoot open with a gasp of shuddering breath.

_If you find your family_

_Don't you cry._

_In this land of make believe_

_Dead and dry._

I'm terrified to move. I'm terrified to breathe lest it should send you into more hysterics. Your eyes remain wide, staring at nothing and every few moments you whisper, "Daro," begging this nightmare to cease. It occurs to me that this may be a buildup of unexpressed emotions and worst of all grief. The unspoken grief of a dead mother, and the pent up grief against a father who all but doesn't love you weigh heavy upon your subconscious thoughts.

Grief is the only emotion that can utterly destroy an Elf and I will not let it destroy you. As to why this fit came on so suddenly remains unknown, but discovering the cause can wait until you are healthy once more.

_You're so cold_

_But you feel alive._

You begin to stir, tossing from side to side, but it's no longer the tremors of before. I start to breathe when your breath becomes steady and warms my hands still holding your frozen fingers. While your eyes remain wide no longer do you stare at nothing. You have regained enough sense to look hazily around the room at your surroundings. No longer do whispered pleas cross your lips.

_Lay your hand on me_

_One last time._

I lower my face to your ear. "Legolas? Mellon nin?" Your eyelids flutter and I try again, quiet and persisting. "Mellon nin, it's Estel. Legolas?"A few minutes of coaxing and you turn your head to respond, clutching my hands for support.

"Estel?" Your voice is shaky, uncertain and weak. I nod. "Where are we?"

I laugh knowing you won't like the answer. "The Inn of the Prancing Pony."

A grimace lines your face, but I am overjoyed at seeing any reaction upon your features. A minute passes in silence, and you shudder silently, for a moment still lost in your nightmare.

_It's all right._

_It's all right._

I stroke your hair and willing yourself back into the comfort of my arms, you smile.


End file.
